Reticent
by Never the End127
Summary: Sequel to Intrinsic, after Tula's death and Wally's sudden disappearance, Nightwing starts to suspect that Barbara's hiding something... and she may not be the only one.
1. Dreams

**A/N—Hello, know I haven't written in a while, been brainstorming. Let me know what you think! By the way, half of this story will be told from Dick's point of view and the other from Babs's because I've realized that the story is now more about the two of them than it is one. I think it insults your intelligence to keep writing 'POV' so I won't, but you'll be able to tell. I'm expecting to roll out about twenty or so- short chapters for this one. (We'll see how this goes, I'm not great at writing short chapters.)**

**Rating—high T for violence and cuz Dick can't keep his hands to himself.**

**Disclaimer—clearly, I do not own nor do I profit from young justice, neither does anyone else on this site so I don't know why I have to write this.**

* * *

Dick runs his hand over her back, feeling her heartbeat settle as she drifted off to sleep. Snuggled up against him with her soft red hair brushing against his lips, he thought he heard Barbara murmur his name before her eyes fluttered closed and she slept.

Dick pressed a kiss to her hair, pulling her further into the barricade of blankets and pillows they had stacked up over themselves against the cold. Summer was coming to an end in Gotham city and once again they were faced with the hopeless task of getting Dick's landlord to install a working heating system.

He claims that's why she's there, jokes lightly that he just keeps her around to keep the bed warm so he doesn't freeze. But there are implications that come along with that—that he needs her there for some other reason. After all, he's been calling her over to spend the night since long before snow started falling in Gotham city.

It's been seven months since Wally disappeared in that blaze of light, seven months since Barbara had told him she loved him, seven months he's been gone from the team.

And in that time he's been on leave, he's convinced himself that in the next week, he'll be back. The next one. The next one. But summer had melted into fall, and here he was, still ringing up his closest living friend in the middle of the night, pulling her away from her life and her work so she could spend a few more precious hours with him.

He did the same thing with Tim, sometimes Konner or Kaldur or Megan. And whenever either of them really needed it, he and Artemis would somehow show up at his doorstep with her dog and a six-pack of beer, ready and willing to talk.

But those hours with Barbara was when he could really get everything out. He didn't even have to talk. Everyone else on the team wanted to 'communicate' and 'express their feelings' and pretty much anything else that would make Dick run for the hills.

But when Barbara came over, that was when things felt normal. When things felt real. They would lie tangled up on the couch, discussing theoretical physics or music or the summer's best action movies. They would try (and fail) to cook an edible dinner and play music loud enough to get Dick's grouchy neighbor to hammer on the walls and yell at them to shut up. Sometimes they would just go into his bedroom, lie down in each other's arms, fully clothed, and say nothing.

And then there were days when Dick was more playful, more himself. Days when he'd be copping a feel every other breath she took, days he would wrestle her to the floor and plant soft little love bites and kisses over every square inch of visible skin. Days like tonight.

Dick softly stroked that one soft spot between Barbara's bare shoulder blades, and she curled against him with her nose in his neck, murmuring something incomprehensible.

Nightmares again. They both had been having them of late. Dick was terrified of having them when he was alone—on the nights when Barbara didn't come over to see him, when she had to go back to her own bed in her own city without him, and he'd be left alone to shout and flail and grapple with enemies that weren't there.

He was left to fight off Wally's ghosts.

And that was expected. It had been that way for him when Jason died and it had been that way when his parents died. Wally was no different. He was too ashamed to cry in front of her, so he usually waited until she was gone, on the days she didn't show up.

But he had noticed something since they had started to share his bed, recently. In his sleep, he heard her murmuring, heard her saying the name, "James Junior" over and over again. She would kick and thrash, and sometimes shout when she awoke.

It had been a joke at first. Dick had joked that he had trained her so well, she did gymnastics in her sleep.

That was until she started crying his name. "Don't hurt him. Please don't kill him." She would implore of James. It was then that Dick realized that Barbara wasn't just having _dreams_.

It was then that he realized that he wasn't the only one having nightmares.

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**A/N—A little angsty, I know, but come on. Wally died, it's inevitable. Yeah… I'm really not great at writing short chapters. Sigh.**


	2. Hunting

**A/N—hey all! Just as a fair warning, I'm introducing a completely new, made-up character to the story. If you're like me, you hate it when the author tries to force their own characters into a new story—which I despise with a passion, by the way. But if the James storyline is going to go along the way I want it to, this new character is kind of crucial. She's allegedly Wondergirl's cousin. I tried not to make the introduction too cheesy.**

**Believe me, if I could get away with not including her, I would, but she's necessary.**

* * *

This is her city.

Not the flashy, brightly-lit streets of Star City, and not the dingy, ash-strewn allyways of Bludhaven. On a night like tonight, Gotham is the place to be.

If you're a super hero, that is. Otherwise, being in Gotham would kind of suck.

She can't help but laugh about what that reflects about her personality while she's knocking some goon's teeth out in some dark, rainy parking lot behind a building, where a group of thugs had cornered a young woman coming home from the subway late at night.

Barbara knows the city is far from perfect. And that's maybe the best thing about it. After all, any utopian society has no need for heroes. She'd be bored out of her mind.

It's not that she enjoys the crime, or the carnage for that matter. It's not like she revels in smashing the one guy's collarbone when he tries to grab the woman's shoulders. It's not like she enjoys the yelp of surprise and fear as the thugs try to scramble away into the shadows, knowing they've been beaten. It's not like she revels in that feeling, like she lives for the rush she gets when she takes down a guy three times her size.

Ah, hell, who is she kidding? She loves her job.

Batgirl watches the creeps crawl back into the shadows, and now she can hear the startled, relieved gasps of the girl, staggering to her feet behind her.

"Are you hurt?" Batgirl turns and clutches the girl's shoulder, helping her to her feet.

"I think so." The woman blinks up at her with wide, bright fawn's eyes, then suddenly grins.

Barbara starts, just a little. This isn't the typical, traumatized reaction of a potential rape victim.

She's dressed in a short, stylish little red overcoat that's cinched at the waist, and black leggings with boots, reminding Barbara a little of something Zatanna might wear. The girl's complexion, however, is nothing like the tall, seductive, dark-haired magician. Her complexion was sweet and childlike, her features and her small build as tiny as a sixth graders may have been—but she was obviously at least Barbara's age, if not older.

"Thank you for saving me." The girl bobbed her head politely, as if thanking Barbara for giving her the time. She promptly bent down to pick he expensive-looking orange purse out of a puddle of muddy rainwater, turn on her heel and start down the ally again. "I appreciate it, Barbara."

Barbara has been stabbed before, and she had been less surprised then than she was now. She feels the initial wave of panic, of surprise roll through her body before she can manage to get a sentence out.

"How—what—how could you possibly—" Barbara stutters, for maybe the first time, ever.

"I'm Cassandra Sandsmark's cousin. My name's Charsha. The girl tells me everything, you should know that. From what cuz tells me, you two are pretty tight." The girl said, smirking.

"Uh… yeah, sure…" Barbara frowned, dragging her lip between her teeth and making a mental note to discuss the definition of 'confidentiality' of other hero's identities with Wondergirl the next time she saw her.

"It's nice to finally meet you. Cassie's told me so much about the team—she's really enjoying it, from what I've heard."

"Cassie never mentioned she had a cousin." Barbara said blankly.

"Well, I'm sort of her cousin." Charsha said, drawing a candy-pink lip between her teeth thoughtfully. "See, Cassie's grandma on her mom's side had, like, a hundred kids, and I'm the niece of youngest—so technically I'm sort of her aunt… and then, we share the same grandfather, but not the same grandmother… so trying to figure it out makes everyone's head hurt."

"Same." Barbara sympathized. "I was named after my aunt, who later adopted me along with my uncle, who had the same last name as both of my parents…" Barbara trailed off, cursing herself furiously for having given up information like that so carelessly. She imagined the look Bruce would give her for it later—the guy had _invented_ the bat-glare, after all.

"So… Cass tells me you're in charge of the team."

Barbara nodded slowly, trying to get a grip on the idea that this girl understood more about vigilante life than any civilian should ever know.

"Sort of. I co-lead with another member, Aqua-lad. I didn't know any civilians were aware of the details."

"You mean Kaldur? Oh, that's so sweet, the two of you working together. Are you dating?"

Barbara was still stuttering, trying to decide which part of that sentence to address first—the fact that this girl knew the Atlantian's name, or that she had mistaken Barbara as his girlfriend, but Charsha had already moved on.

"I also know you're looking for someone." She says, very matter-of-factly in that tone of voice. "Someone in particular, who doesn't want to be found."

"How—did Wondergirl tell—"

"Cassie didn't tell me that, hon, I worked it out all by myself." Charsha takes a few steps closer, stepping under the fire escape attached to the building above their heads as some shelter from the rain as they continued their conversation. "So, who is it?"

Barbara, having abandoned any attempts of trying to figure out who this chick was, and how she just so happened to have stumbled across this particular person during her search for her insane brother, answered as honestly as she dared. "A criminal." She sighed.

"I killer?" the girl guesses.

"Yes. Serial killer. A sociopath. I've been playing tag with him for the past few months. He threatens me, I try to take him in—you know how it is." Barbara said dryly.

"Just you." Charsha clarified. "Not your team? You're alone in this?"

Barbara reminded herself not to make a habit of handing out random facts about her secret identity to civilians as freely as she was at the moment. Then she said, "Yes. The rest of the team doesn't know… it's kind of a… family matter. They can't know. I need to take care of this by myself. This… he's my responsibility. I need to take this man out before he can hurt anyone else." She caught herself, froze, and looked up at the rounded, freckled face who was still beaming at her pleasantly and trying to wring muddy water out of her jacket.

"Ah, I see. Well, don't worry. No one will find out. I'm good at keeping secrets." Charsha said. "And hey, you kind of just saved my butt. I owe you one."

"Thanks." Barbara said, folding her arms across her chest, bracing herself against the cold. There were so many things she'd rather be doing right now than continuing this manhunt after her insane brother—at the top of the list, she'd love to be in bed with Dick right now, snuggled under a mountain of blankets to solve the issue of Dick's cheap landlord not springing for a suitable heating and cooling system. She can imagine trying to read a few pages of her book, something she always had to do before going to bed and then that certain insatiable vigilante trying to corrupt her concentration, nibbling at her ear and nudging his head into her neck, pestering her like a puppy until she gave him some attention.

"Well, I've gotta get home. Say hi to Cassie for me." Charsha said, sounding totally unruffled by the night's events, even as she was soaked from head to toe and shivering even harder than Barbara.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Barbara asked, skeptically.

"Sure." Charsha said indifferently. "Thanks again for the help." She started off down the ally again, her soaked purse swinging at her side with every step.

"Oh yeah, and good luck finding your brother." Charsha called.

As if on cue, almost instantly afterwards, Barbara's communicator beeped and she pulled it off of her utility belt with a few quick snaps of her wrist, raising it to her ear.

"Hey beautiful. Guess what I'm thinking right now? Dick's static voice crackled through her earpiece.

Barbara smirked. "Well, seeing as it's you, boy wonder, I'm going to guess it's not exactly the kind of thing you'd want Alfred or, god forbid, _Bruce_ to be listening in on."

"Ah, give me some credit, Babs. I disabled Bats' signal twenty minutes ago—he's getting dry static over on his end. It's just the two of us." Dick paused; there was a beep, and his voice grew less broken and static over the intercom. "So, guess what I'm thinking?"

"What?" Barbara sighed, grinning as she pulled her grappling gun off of her belt and shot a line towards the top of a low-roofed, abandoned insurance building.

"All I was going to ask for was coffee." Dick said, in a mock-innocent tone.

"Sure." Barbara said. "So, Starbucks?"

"Coffee is always appreciated." Dick hummed. "But hurry back." Barbara could _hear_ him smirking through the phone, the low purr of his voice insinuating that he wanted more than coffee.

"And why should I?" Barbara teased back.

"Because, Gordon, I have every intention of ripping that tight little crime-fighting outfit off of you with nothing but my teeth."

How could she _not_ have shivered a little at that one?

"Richard…" Barbara refused to giggle, biting down on the edge of her glove.

"Barbara," Dick said back in the same tone, mocking her teasingly. "Just get back here, beautiful. I'm in the best mood I've been in in a few weeks, and I want to share it."

There's a click, and he hangs up.

As Barbara re-attached her communicator to her utility belt and swung up onto the roof of the next building in front of her, she was forced to face something that had been nagging at the corners of her subconscious ever since Charsha had said goodbye.

She never told her that she had a brother.

* * *

**A/N—sorry it took so long to update, by the way. I was so nervous about adding in Charsha, I just wrote about six drafts of this before deciding, screw it, I'm scrapping everything else and going with version 4. So let me know what you think, my lovelies, and I'll post again soon!**


	3. Trust

**Enjoy the secrets and fluffiness!**

* * *

Dick's fingers snapped tautly across the keyboard, his eyes glued to the screen as intensely as if he were trying to memorize every pixel. Codes ran up and down in front of his eyes, flashing little green numbers and icons.

He found himself retreating to technology more and more these days. Setting up ridiculously complex passcodes and firewalls just to hack into them all over again. It's a tiresome game. But his options, at the moment, were either to concentrate all of his energy into the work at hand or kill himself with 'what ifs.' He chose option A, for obvious reasons.

There was a clumsy knock at the front door and the sound of a key turning before the screech of hinges announced Barbara's arrival.

"I'm home!" Barbara called, coming in through Dick's front door in her street clothes. He was once again reminded of how cute it was when she acted like she had to knock before coming inside. The door swung shut after her and she dropped her duffle bag in the hallway, swinging around the corner and ducking down to peck him on the cheek.

"Hey, you." He closed his laptop quickly, hastily snapping it shut. Dick spun around on the kitchen stool, slipping down onto his feet to press a chaste kiss to her warm, winter-chapped red lips. "How did today go?"

She tiredly wraps her arms around his waist and rocks back and forth a little, letting him swing her hands back and forth, toy with the limp red curls that fall in crumpled waves over her shoulders, playfully lavishing her body with attention while she searches for the right words.

"It was… long." Barbara finally said. "And tiring." She dropped her head to his shoulder to muffle a moan. "We know that Savage and the Reach are planning a sort of 'comeback. And on patrol—" She cut herself off abruptly and leaned back to look into his eyes. "We just don't know _when_."

Dick laughed a little, dryly. "Yeah. I know the feeling." He leaned back a little more, his hands settling on her hip as he analyzed the damage that came with the stress of being team leader.

Her hair had been yanked roughly out of its usual plain, low ponytail. Her blue eyes, which usually gleamed with a sinful mix of Bambi-like innocence and that knowing, seductive cunning were now dull and lifeless. The small brushes of black makeup she had put on earlier were smudged and flaking, and there was a small streak of blood (most likely not hers) grazing her cheek from the night's patrol.

If he was being honest with himself, she looked like hell.

He told her so, and she cuffed him with a light love tap over the head while he laughs and wrestles her into a rough, playful kiss as he tries to follow through on his promise of undressing her with only his teeth. This earns him another hit, followed by a half-hearted complaint that he really is insatiable.

"Yeah. But you love me anyways." He reminded her.

"Yes I do." Barbara smiled up at him for the first time, crinkling her nose playfully. He lifts her fingers to his lips and runs his lips over her knuckles, over every chapped, rough red line, smoothing out the tense muscles like kisses could heal. She leaned her head back and shivered when his lips ghosted over the thin silver band wrapped around her finger.

"I love you, Richard." She blurted out as he pressed a final kiss to her palm before dropping her hand.

He can't help but smirk when she says that. After all those years of saying it to her, over and over again, he finally hears her say it back—and she just sounds so, completely at his mercy, he has to ignore that instinctive, pleased fluttering in his chest as the irony settles in.

"Go on." He encourages, and he laughs when she looks like she may swat at him again.

"How was your day?" she asked, smiling knowingly against his ear.

The butterflies in his stomach turn to dread at the memories—no, the nightmares that seized him in the nap he had forced himself to take the night before. Dick's 'break' hadn't been so much of a break so far as it had been a constant mix of running and hacking and training day and sometimes night, when Barbara had to be in Gotham the next day, whenever he was alone. He would push his body to ridiculous limits until mid-day, then come home and do his best not to pass out.

Dreams always came in the form of memories. He couldn't decide yet, though, if they were better or worse than his reality.

"I missed him today." He murmured against her hair. She tensed, then. Pulled him closer so his head was on her shoulder.

"You dreamed again?" It was really more like a statement than a question. She knew how bad it was.

"Yes." He answered honestly. "You, the team, everyone—they were all gone. Barbie… I have to stop feeling like this."

"I know, sweetheart." She threaded her fingers through his hair, stroking his bangs the way she knew he liked, offering the only form of comfort she knew how to give. Barbara had never been particularly successful in the capacity of comfort. But she was doing her best.

Dick wrapped one arm around her and lowered his lips to that little sweet spot right next to the hollow of her throat and started sucking gently. She sighed blissfully as he rained more rough-lipped kisses over the small, exposed area of skin covering her neck and collarbone. She stroked the back of his neck and his bare shoulders as he rained down kisses everywhere, clumsy, affectionate, lazy.

"So…" he mumbled against her skin as he back met the wall, every motion slow and intensified to the point where he could envision the next thing that would happen before it did. "Do you want to tell me what's wrong?"

He doesn't stop when he feels the strong, lean muscles tense under his own and her fingers tighten in his hair. "Nothing's wrong." She said, in the same patient, reasonable voice she uses when she's addressing a rookie, as if she's being perfectly sensible and no one else is.

He's almost offended that she doesn't think he'll be able to tell—that he won't recognize a lie from her when he sees it.

"Something happened on patrol." He says, taking her earlobe between his teeth and nibbling gently.

She gasps a little as his fingers struggle for the buttons on her shirt and he litters the top of her cleavage with soft, quick little kisses. "I told you. Nothing happened tonight. A girl got cornered, but she's—"

"No. There' s been something going on with you for a while." He argued. "You've been acting strangely."

"I have—" Barbara began, but he had started to suck gently on that special spot on her neck and she had to put up a fight just to talk straight. "Not been acting strangely."

"Mmm, yes you have." Dick murmured. "Tell me. You know you can tell me anything, Barbie."

Barbara let out a short laugh that ended in a groan. "Now you just sound like my dad trying to give me a very awkward and short-lived sex talk." She muttered.

"Don't change the subject." He told her.

Barbara paused for a moment, like she didn't know what to say. "How about I don't ask you, you don't ask me?"

"What?" Dick asked distractedly, his mouth still inching slowly across her collarbone. She didn't answer, and he pulled back to stare confusedly into her eyes.

"How about you don't ask me about what's keeping me up late at night and I won't ask you what you were doing on your computer when I came in."

"I was encrypting random files." Dick stuttered out, not looking at her.

"Mmm." She hummed, unconvinced.

Dick felt a pang of fear and unease. It felt strange, frightening, downright _unnatural—_both of them at a standstill, staring blatantly into each other's eyes, neither willing to admit to anything.

"Well, alright then." Barbara turned soundly on her heel and headed towards his bedroom. "I'm going to get some sleep."

"Barbara—" Dick said helplessly, taking a step towards her and freezing.

Barbara turned around in the doorway, the top of her blouse still unbuttoned and her lips pressed together in a thin, concerned line. "I know you're hurting, Dick. And no one should have to feel that kind of hurt in their lives, especially not you, and especially not as often as you do. But until you ask me for help, there's nothing I can do."

"I don't want to keep secrets from you." He told her quietly. "Not anymore. Never again."

"I know." She breathed. She turned and put her hand on the doorknob, not looking back when she slipped inside to climb into his bed—always close, always watchful and loving and protective—but so secretive. So closed in. So closed off.

Dick follows her, and they fall asleep next to each other like they have nearly every night since Wally's death.

They've reached an unspoken agreement.

They've agreed to keep their secrets.

* * *

**Thanks so much to everyone who's stuck with this story. It really means a lot. So, I know this one is a little angsty, so I promise a funny chapter next time with a lot of Wondergirl and confusion and of course, secrets. In this chapter, I really tried to express what we see all the time in the comics- Dick and Babs going through some major stress on their relationship, but they always manage to pull through. Thanks for reading, and please leave me your thoughts and suggestions!**


	4. coffee

**A/N—Hello my lovelies! Since you've all been so wonderfully patient, I've decided to upload a chapter that I think is of higher quality than the last one. Thanks so much for waiting this long, I love you all! Leave me your thoughts and suggestions, I always love your advice!**

* * *

There are times when Barbara finds herself as quick to lie as a child is to unwrap a piece of candy. It's just such a simple, uncomplicated alternative—she's always used the technique sparingly. Now, it's become part of her daily routine. Lies to Dick, lies to the team—everything from how far they've gotten in their search for Vandal Savage to the lies she told Dick every morning.

She hadn't breathed a word to him—not about how she seemed to keep seeing her dead brother. Nothing about the cat that seemed to walk in and out of her consciousness and her life as it pleased. She hadn't even mentioned Charsha.

Barbara knew she lied a lot. What worried her was how good she was becoming at it.

So when her team asks her what she's doing on her computer that prevents her from joining their bizarre, mutated form of basket-ball, she tells them that she's writing a paper for a night class at Gotham University.

They believe it, if somewhat sulkily, dragging their feet as they head off to the new Watchtower training wing designed specifically for the team due to the circumstances.

Oh well. They could mope all they wanted to—anything was better than another round of 'Super-powered-freeze-tag-and-Barbara-gets-to-be-b ase.'

"Is something troubling you, Barbara?" She hears Kaldur's voice before she sees him, spinning her head to the side and snapping her laptop shut with careless speed.

The pleasantly puzzled Atlantian was hovering uncertainly in the entrance of the communications office, a small, cramped corner of the watch tower that only Batman occasionally passed by. Apparently, his Spartan-like training routine also included combing through debriefing reports of every existing team mission, an old habit of his. Otherwise, Barbara was usually left alone.

Seeing the cup of steaming coffee in his hands, she waved him in. "Hey, Kaldur." Barbara jammed her fingers into the corners of her eyes and blinked a few times, trying to force her vision to focus normally.

"I brought the suspicious human beverage you seem to have a dependent fondness of." Kaldur remarked, offering her the mug.

"Thanks. I've trained you well." Barbara tells him. She rubs her temple with her free hand, grimacing. "I've just been so tired lately."

"I understand. Leading this team can be very… stressful." Kaldur sympathizes.

"Yeah. I don't know how Dick ever did it on his own." She remarks bluntly.

"How is Nightwing getting along?" He asks.

"He's… fine." Barbara finishes dully, cutting herself off. In all honesty, she hasn't seen or heard from Dick in nearly twenty-four hours. Even while he was on leave from the team, she hadn't managed to convince him to put the suit and mask away for more than a week. Too soon for her liking, he had jumped back into crime fighting solo, like he had done the days after Jason Todd's sudden death.

"I… see." Kaldur sounded unconvinced.

There were a few moments of awkward hesitation, broken only by the started, excited yelps from the ceiling—the kids had set up their game in the new gym and were currently beating each other senseless, no doubt.

"I'm going to go… assess that situation and decide how best to settle it." Kaldur said slowly, piecing his words together with care. "You'll be alright?"

Barbara grins up at him. "I'll be fine. And thanks again for the sugary, caffeinated goodness."

He nods politely before floating soundlessly out of the room, and then she's alone with the small, lumpy couch she's perched on and the rows and rows of cabinets of files.

Barbara opens her lap top again and her fingers snap expertly across the keyboard; her password, Alaska.

Her ongoing IM session with Cassie had come to an abrupt halt upon Kaldur's arrival, but her fingers flew to cover her newest question for the slightly damaged team member. It had been almost three days since Cassie was out of commission—she had been up in the air during an unfortunately mixed freak storm and a fight with Killer Crock. She had gotten slammed through a brick wall so hard, she had broken her arm in two places and she had a concussion, which was quite the feat, considering who she was.

_Thanks, Cassie, I just wanted to know how you were holding up._ Barbara types, trying to make her words rise and fall randomly and insignificantly—as if she was just saying whatever came to mind at that particular moment.

**_Oh, I'm alright! Doctors say I'm gonna be out in 2 weeks and Im so happy luv ya guys! Give everyone hugs from me, XOXO (:_**

Barbara hurried to send her the next message before Cassie logged out.

_Wait, Cassie, I was actually hoping you could help me with something._

**_sure boss. what's up?_**

_I think I met someone who knows you… the other night, I was out on patrol and I met a girl who claimed to be your cousin. She said her name was Charsha. Does that sound familiar?_

It's a while before Cassie writes back.

**_candace? shes not in trouble, is she, tell her I said hi, I thought she was still rock climbing with her friend in the appalacians!_**

_Cassie, I said Charsha, not Candace._

**_oh I know except when we were little she hated her name and we used to call her by the greek & latin origin of her name which is charsha and she wasn't supposed to be back yet! Are the guys there, cuz I wanted to tell bart that I love the teddy bear he sent me he is so precious and Im naming him after bart!_**

_Cass, focus please. I need to ask you something. What does your cousin do for a living?_

Barbara found herself half-hoping that Charsha turned out to be a Russian spy or a serial killer. That, at least, would explain how she seemed to know who Barbara was. No such luck.

**_she takes photography that's why she was in the mountains cuz she loves doing landscape photos and shes also a part time nanny and please give her a hug from me when you see her! And my nurse says I have to get off the computer now and sleep so bye! XOXO :3_**

Barbara sighed as she closed her lap top and slid it into the bag resting by her side. Cassie, who she suspected was still a little ditzy on morphine, was never any help when it came to communicating through technology. She always wrote in a really strange font and made it different colors and had to add all these little digital cards and images that popped out a you before you could read a single word.

Sometimes she's a little jealous of Cassie. Not for anything really significant—just that blind, ignorant optimism that she alone seemed to have the power to keep alive.

It's been a while since Barbara's assumed the best of anything.

She almost misses the beep of her communicater that signals that Dick is trying to make contact with her.

"Hello?" She raises the little black chip to her mouth and rolls her head back onto the top of the sofa, tiredly. "Nightwing, is that you?"

"Barbara." She expects him to sound sinister, but his tone is excited, nearly giddy. "Barbara, guess what just happened in Bludhaven."

"There was an emergency hostage situation in the Nero sector, west side, forty-eighth street." Dick continued, as proud and as enthusiastically as if he was announcing the birth of his first child.

"You seem pretty stressed out about it." Barbara deadpanned.

"No, look I need you to get over here. This is a huge case—wait till you hear about the guy who was holding the hostage." Dick continued, in his excited, cackly, thirteen-year-old voice.

_I should consider myself lucky._ Barbara reminded herself, face-palming hard enough to leave a blotchy red mark on her forehead. _Artemis used to get calls from Wally routinely. Whenever he beat a new level of Halo reach, he had to call and share his joy at the most inconvenient time possible._

"Alright, do you have it under control?" Barbara asked, hoping to god he didn't need any help. Her muscles were stiff and clenching together like glue and she didn't feel like she could move if she wanted to.

"Yeah; and here's the best part—it was a one-man operation. I mean, this scrawny little red-headed guy who couldn't have been older than Tim just dragged this girl off the streets and brained her from behind. Took her to the old warehouse on 48. Has it ever occurred to you that Gotham and Bludhaven have too many warehouses? I mean, how many villains have their lairs there?"

"Dick, focus." Barbara said, feeling a growing sensation of dread in her stomach. "What happened?"

"That's just it." Dick rambled on. "Nothing happened. The girl looks like she's pretty rich—maybe he was trying to rob her. He may have hit her over the face a few times. But then he ran when he saw me coming."

"What did he look like?"

"I didn't get a great look at him. Short. Scrawny. Kind of greasy red hair and big glasses. He was dressed like a teenager… Barbara, are you alright?"

"I'm fine." She choked out, realization dawning on her.

"Well, I'm here with the girl now. She's explaining to the police what happened. She says that the guy who kidnapped her was going on and on about 'discovering her true human nature,' and 'seeing who she was when she was seconds away from death,' or whatever the hell that's supposed to mean."

Barbara didn't remember responding, but she apparently did because the next second the sound of his laugh crackles through the static.

"Yeah, I know, right? Our cities are two of the craziest on the planet."

Barbara couldn't move her mouth. Everything suddenly felt hazy and numb, like a shot of morphine after surgery. "How's the girl?" She managed to force out.

"She's in okay shape. He tied her to one of the old machines, and she got scraped up a lot—rust in all of her cuts. She's going to need a tetanus shot and maybe a couple of bandages but other than that she's going to be okay."

"Who is she?" Barbara asked, already dreading the answer.

"She said her name's Charsha."

* * *

**A/N—for those of you who dislike the Charsha storyline, don't worry, it'll pick up. Sorry I haven't updated in so long—my friend's in this really big musical and I made the mistake of volunteering to help move sets and stuff. It has completely swallowed up my life. I'm sorry if this is crummy, I wrote it at like eleven o'clock at night and I promise the next chapter will be more fluffy! PS: Reticent is really just a big, fancy word for secretive. If that tells you anything. (;**


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